The egg is not yet hatched, the bird stands guard,
Proud sentinels each side their leaves unfold
And admire the dragonflies whose wings are starred
As they touch the window frame of burnished gold.
In centre stage a branch with four dark leaves,
From which a purple flower burgeons forth
Yet should the bird who shelters under these
Fear the cage in wondrous silver wrought?
(c) Poet in the woods 2014